Walter glanced between them. “Uh, I’m basically done here anyway. It’s fine.”

“It is not fine, Walter.” Charlie seethed, wanting to tell Brett right then and there who she was and that he needed to leave her sister the hell alone, once and for all. But she didn’t want to escalate the situation. The bakery was opening in a half hour. She could be done talking to Brett in five minutes, and still have a chance to grab a shower and get behind the counter in time for the first customer.

Charlie walked into the bakery and grabbed an apron, tying it quickly around her waist. “Walter, you can go. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go and enjoy your day.” Charlie poured herself a cup of coffee, not asking Brett if he needed a refill. She wondered how long he had been there. Walter quickly removed his apron before giving Cass one last questioning look. She smiled and mouthed she was okay, and then Walter nodded, grabbed his coat and hat, and was out the door.

The doorbells stopped chiming a few seconds after Walter left. Charlie took her cup of coffee and sat down at the table with Brett. “Okay, Brett. Let’s talk.”

15

Cass

Monday: 5 Days Until Christmas . . .

Los Angeles

It had been a long but disaster-free day on set. Cass had even garnered several compliments from Sasha, who appeared to be over the sourdough bread mask incident, and had convinced wardrobe to let her wear flats. She unlocked the door to her sister’s apartment, tossed down her bag, and kicked off her shoes. Now that she had her sister’s file, she didn’t have to spend her evenings developing recipes—just an hour or so testing them. She thought about running a bath and soaking her aching feet and body, but the couch was calling her name. She collapsed onto the sofa, TV remote in hand, with the idea of ordering something for dinner and watching mindless television for a while—but she soon drifted off. In that dreamlike state between awake and asleep, Miguel’s face appeared. She let herself drift away a little more. In her fantasy, they were surfing together. Cass was expertly catching wave after wave, remembering to relax and breathe into it, exactly the way he had told her. Miguel was grinning, proud of her—and then, they were kissing in the waves, like a scene straight out of From Here to Eternity . . .

An ugly buzzing sound was messing with her reverie. She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Grumbling, Cass got up and followed the sound to the front door. “Hello? Charlie Goodwin’s residence?” she said into the intercom.

A chuckle on the other end, familiar even though it was muffled. “That’s how you answer your door?”

All thoughts of sleep were gone, and Cass was grinning with delight. “Miguel!”

“I have a food delivery for you from Fabrizio, who watched yesterday’s show and declared you looked like you haven’t been eating enough vegetables. Or meatballs. Or fettuccine. Or grilled octopus. He insisted I deliver it to you personally. Can I come up and drop it off?”